Every child on the street dropped everything and ran toward the...

Every child on the street dropped everything and ran toward the music.

I did not know what the music meant. I only knew that children were running toward a sound, and that not one adult was stopping them.

So it was a drill.

I ran too. I ran hard. I passed a boy on a scooter. I arrived first, stood at attention at the driver's window with my hands at my sides, and waited to receive instructions and, if necessary, to carry someone.

The driver looked at me for a while.

He said, "You want a Choco Taco or not."

The children arrived behind me and formed a line, because I was standing in a line, and I was the front of it, and this is apparently how lines work in every country on earth.

A father across the street called out, "Buddy, you okay?" and then, without waiting for the answer, "get me one too."

I bought fourteen ice creams. I did not plan to buy fourteen ice creams. I simply could not think of any way to stop that was more dignified than continuing.

Then I handed them out one at a time, with both hands, to children who did not know why this was happening but could tell that it was serious.

The truck stops at my house first now.